In Hiding
by Lady Knight of Kennan
Summary: Sirius got to Godrics Hollow before Hagrid, and foung young Harry. Following his duties as a godfather, he takes his godson into hiding, in the states! Harry Potter, the California Beach Bum. please reveiw, i need help with future chapters!
1. Sirius

_Disclaimer: all names and affiliations with Harry Potter belong to J. K. Rowling and all publishers.  No money is being made off of this story; it is for my personal pleasure only!  Happy Reading!_

Summary:  Sirius Black beat Hagrid to the scene of the Potters' murder, and took his godson before consulting anyone.  Sirius, knowing he was being hunted by the Britain Wizarding World, took Harry to America, changing names and identities to keep his godson safe.  

In Hiding

**

*

**

Halloween, 1981

Young Sirius Black was worried.  Peter was not at home, and as the Potters' secret-keeper, he was supposed to be hiding.  No, Peter was not home, and gut instinct told the Marauder that something was defiantly wrong.  

After thoroughly searching Peter Pettigrew's house, and finding nothing out of place, except the fact that Peter was not there, Sirius began to get very worried, and immediately got onto his magical motorbike and revved it, flying high into the sky towards his best friends' house.  Something told him that things were defiantly wrong.

Sirius flew out of the clouds over Godric's Hollow expecting to see the quiet street devoid of life at almost midnight, the muggle streetlamps giving off a whimsical glow as they always did, perhaps a few late-night trick-or-treaters out for fun.   The last thing he expected to see was the house of his loved ones in smoldering ruins.  He nearly fell off of his motorcycle in shock, and barely made it to the ground.  He stumbled off, not caring that his once prized possession crashed to the asphalt behind him.   He stared at the house that he had come to know as his second home, and something in his mind screamed his best friends' names.  James and Lily.  

"James!" he cried into the night, slowly making his way between the ruins to where the house once stood.  He could see parts of the wall, two or three feet high, nowhere hear where they had stood when the old Tudor home had stood tall and proud on its' street. Sirius tried to shout their names over and over, hoping against hope that someone would answer, or that he could wake from this nightmare. 

"JAMES! LILY!" 

The night gave him no answers, and he continued on his trek to the house.  After what felt like eternities, he was finally standing in what he realized what had been the living room.  The part of Sirius' mind that had gone fuzzy and muddled knew that he had stood in this very spot a few weeks earlier, preparing for Lily's birthday party.  He had flooed into and out that fireplace right there so many times he had lost count at around five hundred and fifty-two.  

The rest of his mind was jarred into painful reality, as he grasped that what he had thought was the remains of a couch, was actually his best friend, covered in soot and dust, 

Sirius rushed to his side, knowing it was futile, but performing the check of pulse and breathing anyway.  As he knew he would find, James was dead, and it was then Sirius first heard the sounds of wailing muggle sirens from far away.  

Damn them, he thought frustrated.  He needed to search for any sign of Lily, no matter how much he didn't want to see her like James.  He reached down to his friend's eyes, which were open, seething with hatred even in death, and closed them gently.  He didn't want anyone to find him like that.  

He made his way to what had been the hallway, and into the old nursery.  There she was, as Sirius had expected.  Lying on her side, a look of pained and terrible sadness on her face.  She did not have her eyes open, but her hands were behind her back, and Sirius, tears now streaming down his face, went to lay her in an appropriate position.  When he got closer, able to see her clearly, he peered.  It looked at if she had been protecting something behind her.  Sirius wondered for a moment, then, with a horrible realization, his mind produced him with the name of his Godson, Harry James Potter. 

Oh no, his mind, stressed to the end of it's limits, screamed. Beyond all else, he did not want to see his one-year-old godson like his parents, a dead lifeless body in the rubble.  Sirius almost didn't go any closer to Lily, afraid of seeing a child in that state.  But he had to continue.  He owed it to these three.  It was his fault, after all, that they were dead.  He owed them at least that.  

His mind half-numbed with pain and guilt, he quickly closed the gap between himself and the body of his best friend's wife.  He crouched, leaning on the balls of his feet, and gingerly reached out to touch her, move her body to the ground, so she wasn't in that awful looking position.  When he moved her, and laid her down to the floor, he gasped, and almost dropped the body, at the sight of what she had been protecting between herself and the crib.  

Laying Lily down, not looking at her, he stared at the baby boy sitting calmly underneath his crib, staring, wide-eyed, and most obviously alive, at the man in front of him and the body of his mother.  The baby, a toddler almost, sat mutely, the only sign of life were his large emerald eyes, following Sirius around with bewildering clarity that gave him the chills. 

Sirius stepped over the boy's mother, and kneeled down in front of Harry.  The baby looked at him, and after a moment, recognized the wizard who visited him often, and taught him funny things to tell his mother.  He broke into a wide grin, but still made no sound. 

Sirius was glad he showed at least that much.  The child unnerved him, with those large emerald eyes that watched him consistently.  

"Harry?" Sirius asked, after a moment of neither speaking.  The baby Harry nodded, and stood for the first time that night, and toddled toward his godfather.  Sirius was relieved, and broke into a wide grin.  He scooped the child into his arms, and held him close, not letting him see the wreckage that had been his house. 

"Shhh…  There, there Harry," Sirius cooed at the child, who was starting to worry him with his lack of vocal communication.  Harry had not uttered a single sound in the whole time that Sirius had been here.  

With that thought, Sirius' senses came rushing back to him.  He could smell the acrid smoke from the ruins of the house, and the sirens of the muggle firetrunks or whatever they were called could be heard with clarity now.  He had to get him and his godson out of here, before he was found.  Now that Peter had betrayed his friends, Sirius would be convicted, he knew.  James and Lily had been careful, telling only a select few about the original protection, and no one about the last minute switch from Sirius himself to Peter, who had been the traitor from the start.  

Sirius, stepping out of the house and moving quickly to his motorbike, let out a growl of disgust at the thought of Peter.  He had betrayed his best friends to the Dark Lord.  Sirius's first thought was that Peter needed to pay, and pay hard.  But as the baby in his arms struggled at the tension in his holder, Sirius knew that his first and foremost priority was Harry.  He had told Lily and James that no matter what happened, if something went wrong, Sirius would be there for Harry.  Sirius had given them his word, and had no intention whatsoever at betraying that trust as Peter had.  

He climbed quickly on his motorcycle, revving the engine, and giving the baby in his arms a final comforting pat on the head, he flew into the night, turning his back on the Wizarding world for the child in his arms, now falling fast asleep.  

Sirius allowed himself only one look back at the house that had once held so much happiness, now sadly the pitiful reminder of the chaos that was the world today.  

"Goodbye James, Lily.  I promise I'll try my best to take care of him," he told his friends, before turning back, settling the babe into the crook of his right arm, and flying with his left.  

"I will take care of you Harry," he promised the sleeping boy himself.  "I will," he muttered into the silent night.  

He did not expect and answer, nor did he receive one.  He flew for many hours, knowing that behind him, the world would be searching for him, any mention of his name.  At the same time, cowering at the newest attack form a powerful Dark Wizard gaining power in the Britain Wizarding community.  Knowing that he could never go back, and would be hunted, living in fear until they caught him.  

He didn't care.  

He did all this for the child in his arms at the moment.  He did it all for the baby that he had given his word to take care of.  He would never break his word.  Never again, because now he knew what it would bring.  

**

*

"Dumbledore!"  

A man, tattered and dirt stained robes flittering behind him, burst into the Great Hall of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, intent on the man at the center of the High Table.  Hundreds of students and teachers quieted suddenly, gazing at the interruption in the early morning schedule. 

 "Dumbledore," he croaked again, his filthy russet hair falling into his face.  He made no move to fix, it.  He didn't seen to care, or even acknowledge, his haphazard appearance. His eyes were red and partially swollen, as if the man had been crying for hours.  

The old wizard at the head of the Staff Table looked grave.  The whole student body, and some of the staff at the High Table, forgetting their cooling breakfasts, starred at the man shamelessly.  

Their attentions wavered, however, when the headmaster, not taking his eyes off the strange visitor, gracefully got up from his seat and headed towards the man in the shabby wizards' robes.  When he reached him, to the great astonishment of everyone in the Hall, he enveloped the smaller man in a hug.  The man in question sagged against him, and tears could be seen leaking from his eyes.  

"Come, Remus," a few students nearby heard their headmaster murmur.  

As the pair left the Great Hall swiftly, even less heard the other man cry below his silent sobs, "James and Lily…" 

"James and Lily, Dumbledore." Remus moaned again.  He sat in the Headmasters office; his head in his hands, silent sobs still racking his body. 

"Let us not forget little Harry," the headmaster gently reminded the man in front of him. "We have no idea what happened to the boy." Dumbledore seemed to be musing to himself more than talking to Remus Lupin in front of him. 

"What do we need to figure out?" Remus wailed.  "His parents are dead, (a sob escaped his lips at the words) and he wasn't found at the scene of the crime.  He's, (sob) most likely (sob) dead," he whispered the last word, as his he still hoped against hope that a boy of one year could survive the Dark Lord at his height of power.  

"But the Dark Lord is gone," was the calm reply from the other side of the desk. 

Remus only gawked at him.  "what… what do you mean, 'gone'?" he croaked out finally. 

"My spies and tracers all point out quite plainly that Voldemort, (Remus shuddered slightly) is simply gone. He cannot be found.  It is most peculiar."  The old man's eyes held a faint twinkle, but it was shadowed by the matters at hand. 

Remus looked very much like a fish out of water.  When he was finally able to regain his vocal abilities, he stuttered. 

"How…  why?    How?" Coherent sentences seemed to be above him at the moment. 

"We do not know," Dumbledore answered, knowing well the question. 

"Than what do you think happened to Harry?" Remus finally choked out. 

The light in the wizard's eyes dimmed again. 

"I have not the faintest clue.  He was not found with his parents, so the possibility that he is alive is not yet gone. But we have no idea what happened to him after the attack." The headmaster stood up from his chair and walked slowly around to his desk to look at the werewolf in front of him. "And as to the matter with Sirius, I am afraid that we were all gravely mistaken.  The only important thing is to make sure that you, Remus, do not feel guilty about this."

Remus shuddered, and looked away from his old teacher's face. "Sirius betrayed us all," he said monotonously. 

Dumbledore sighed.  

Nothing was said between them for a time. 

"We should begin a task force of trying to locate Harry," Remus said quietly, after a few minutes.  "It is what James and Lily would have wanted.  We need to talk to Peter; I don't know if he's heard yet.  He hasn't contacted me, at least.   But Harry, Harry is what is important now." 

Finished speaking, he stood up from the chair in front of his friend and confidant, and left.  

Dumbledore remained only a few moments longer, his piercing blue eyes calculating something, trying to guess at some puzzle or another.  When it looked as if he had figured it all out, he left his office, and hurried out of the castle without a backwards glance.   

They needed to find Harry. 

*

A/N:  well,   um, please review.  Because it makes me feel special, and I need some help in later chappies!  Give suggestions!   TY!  


	2. Peter

Well,  the second chapter, and I have tons more ideas for the future, so…  with out further delay, wait…  no,  I have to do a disclaimer…  

Disclaimer: NO!  I do not own Harry Potter.   Stop asking…   wait, that was just in my head…. *****blushes *      nevermind.  Anywayz, I don't own it, JKR does folks.  And scholastic and warner bros and all those rich peeps.  Not poor, broke little ol me!!   So,   NOW without further delay, the story….

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/Peter 

_We are not happy with your recent involvement in our lord's downfall.  We will be contacting you to receive first hand your full encounter.  Try and escape, and we will know where your loyalties lie. /_

Peter Pettigrew blanched as he stared at the letter in his hands. It didn't matter that it wasn't signed, he knew full well who it was from.  Death Eaters.  It didn't matter the specific person.  It was Death Eaters, and that was all that mattered.

His betrayal of the Potters, which he had thought would have brought him even closer to the Dark Lord's inner circle, had only made him the prime target former Lord's followers. 

He supposed it was his fault.  He had made the mistake of announcing to the entire ring of Death Eaters that he could hand He-who-must-not-be-named the Potters on a silver platter. It had seemed ingenious at the time. 

He had only wanted them all to respect him.  He was always the weak servant, who everyone else either pitied or hated. Even with his friends in school, always tagging along with James and Sirius and Remus.   He had hated it then, and he hated it now. 

 But nothing could change it. He had accepted that long ago.  But then an opportunity had arisen, and he had snatched at the chance to prove to everyone that he could do great things. The Potters were the most desired family by the Dark Lord, and Peter had always wished to prove it to the world that he could do something right.

His plan had backfired, though.  The Potters had managed to kill the Dark Lord. Somehow. It seemed that none of them had survived, or so Peter had been told, but neither had the Dark Lord. 

Now the Death Eaters that had not been caught suspected him, Peter, of betrayal of the Dark Lord.  And it was his own damn fault. He was at a loss as to what to do.  If he faced the Death Eaters, they would most likely kill him, it didn't matter that he was innocent. Was he innocent?  Peter shook his head.  He wasn't sure anymore. 

But what if he ignored them, and ran.  Where would he go where they wouldn't find him? Could Dumbledore protect him? Peter wasn't sure what Dumbledore knew.  Could the old man have been informed that James had made Peter his Secret Keeper?  

James and Lily had never kept anything from the headmaster before, well, anything of great importance, like Secret Keepers. Becoming an Animagi without the Headmaster knowing didn't count. James had only told Peter that Sirius and Remus could not take on the duties of Secret Keeper, and the burden had to fall on Peter. When Peter had agreed immediately, they had performed the charm, just the three of them and the baby Harry. 

 He hadn't taken the time to question James' folly.  He had been too overjoyed with the fact that after over a full year, he could tell his Lord that he could give him what he most desired. But it occurred to him now that perhaps no one knew of the business of Secret Keeper.  Would the Headmaster know?  And did he know who it had been?  

It was all so confusing.  Peter didn't know what to do, or who to trust.  He sat at his kitchen table, in the middle of a small cottage, contemplating what to do for a full hour before he moved.

When he did, it was not by his choice.  A banging on his door startled the small man into jumping some feet into the air.  He looked around hurriedly, expecting men in black cloaks to come swarming in at any moment.  When they didn't, Peter knew he couldn't stay here.  If it wasn't Death Eaters banging on his door this time, it could be later.  He had no one to trust.  

But in an instant he made a quick decision. 

He could trust one man, whose forgiving nature was well known throughout the Death Eater's circle.  Peter knew of at least one man who had gained the trust of the Headmaster in Voldemort's inner circle.  Surely if a man of such great import in the Dark order could gain Dumbledore's trust he, Peter could.  

It was a simple matter of fooling him.  Peter could do it, he was sure.  After all, hadn't he tricked his best friends into believing him to be true? Had they not made _him_, Peter, the great fraud, their Secret Keeper?

Yes, he could fool the old wizard, and, if luck was on his side, James and Lily would have been smart, and told not a soul of the identity of their Secret Keeper.  Hopefully.  Or everything would be lost for young Peter Pettigrew. 

~***~

"I'm sorry to bother you at this early hour, Headmaster, but I needed to talk with you."

Remus Lupin sat in a spiny chair in that circular room that he knew so well, from his years in this school and after.  He stared at the professor he had come to trust wholly and think of as a guiding paternal figure, as did most of the wizards who knew him.  Remus thought for a moment what it must be like to have that weight on his shoulders, and decided he would certainly not like it.  

Remus looked wan, like too many sleepless nights had taken their toll on him.  

The wizard in the chair behind the desk looked worse.  Dumbledore was grave. His flowing white beard and hair pulled behind him.  He gazed at his former pupil, eyes dull, his face giving away no feeling.  

"It is quite all right, Remus."  The professor gave a small smile, a haunted look with his dull eyes.  "It is a professor's job to help those who need it.  Please, explain what was dire enough to burst in on an old man so early in the morning." He gave Remus a true smile then, and a small twinkle trickled into the old mans aqua eyes.  

Remus, despite himself, returned the gesture, his spirits rising only slightly by his old teacher's ability to make a small joke in such serious times. He paused for a moment, before answering his old teacher's question. 

"News, Headmaster," he told him, his smile vanishing, as he remembered why exactly he had come this morning. "I've had a task force searching for Harry.  Mudungus, Arabella, Frank… But even with locators, tracers and all, there is absolutely no evidence of the child.  It's like he fell of the continent." The worried werewolf was getting frantic, and the professor before him held up a hand.

"Calm yourself, Remus." He murmured, retrieving his wand and muttering a spell.  Before him, a silver platter with a steaming teapot accompanied by two teacups appeared at his side. He levitated the tray to his desk near Remus.  "Have a cup of tea, dear boy, then explain yourself." Dumbledore gave a reassuring smile.  "Madam Pomfrey would box my ears for letting you distress yourself further." Dumbledore nodded to the young man before him, and Remus hesitantly grasped a teacup with shaking hands. 

They sipped on their tea for a while, both men reveling in the silence.  Remus knew there were most likely calming herbs in the tea, but he no longer cared.  Frankly, he thought, he could use them. 

When the werewolf appeared calmer and color had returned to his pale features, he set his teacup aside and began again.  

"The task force has been searching for Harry since yesterday morning, when I talked to you last," he began slowly, talking softly, and staring at his dragon hide boots.  "James and Lily were not stupid.  They planned for the worst.  When Harry was born, they put all sorts of tracer charms and detector spells on him, his clothes, toys, even his little binky he always sucked on. Whatever happened, they wanted to have some way to know where he was at all times.  I believe they told you of all this?" He asked the headmaster, looking at him briefly.  The slightest nod from the professor was all he needed to continue. 

"Only a few people," his look darkened as a paused for a second, "only a few were able to activate or deactivate these tracers. Myself, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius."  The name sounded forced out of the man's throat, hard a caustic. 

"Only us knew how to take them off.  My team is finding no traces, whatsoever.  My only lead is to believe the _traitor_ took the boy far enough out of our range that we have no hope of detecting him.  They would tell us if he was…" Remus sobbed slightly, "We would be able to tell if Harry was killed, the readings would all drop and tell us, but that's not the case."  He closed his eyes, not wanting to go on, but knowing he must.  Finally he opened his mouth to continue.

"I have to believe that the traitor took the child and is keeping him, alive, for either hostage, which doesn't make sense because their has been no ransom demand, or he took him to raise the child in evil." Here the werewolf shuddered. "Raise Harry in _his_ ways, following the Dark Lord and…  well, there you have it."  

Remus looked to the headmaster at last, to find the old man's eyes looked deeply troubled.  The young man despaired.  

"I have none of them left, Albus.  I don't even know where Peter is."

At this the old man's bowed head snapped up.  

"What did you say, dear boy?" he asked stiffly.  

Remus looked up, his eyes glistening.  "I couldn't find Peter.  He wasn't at home when I went there this morning, just before I came here.  I searched his house, and it looked like he had just left all of a sudden.  It was strange." The young man sank in his chair.  "I have none of them left." He whispered softly, more to himself than the headmaster. 

Dumbledore's eyes caught a calculating gaze, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Fawkes, his phoenix companion, gave a loud, sweet trill.  Both men in the round office looked quizzically at the large bird, but he did nothing further than stare at the headmaster for a moment.  

Dumbledore, though, seemed to make something of this, and turned to Remus again.

"It seems we have a guest," was all he said, before stepping toward the door of the office expectantly.  

~***~

Peter, having apparated from his home to Hogsmeade, hurried up the grassy slope to the castle, slipping occasionally, and tumbling only once.  He made it to the great oak doors and paused, the look on his face one of debate and fear. 

After a moment, however, he seemed to have made up his mind, and tugged the huge doors open.  He slid into the small gap slipped into the silent hall.  For a moment, the small man wondered at that silence, but a quick look through the door he still held open told him the story.

It was still early morning, the dawn sun just rising over the horizon.  Peter shut the door slowly, so as to not break that silence, and ran on.  

He went through the halls swiftly, knowing well, the route to his destination.  He had certainly gotten into enough trouble in his days at school to memorize the path to the Headmaster's office. He scurried through the halls until he came to an all-too familiar stone gargoyle. Here, Peter Pettigrew froze, hiding in the shadows across the hall, muttering furiously to himself, uncertainty and fear etched into the man's face.  

He finally calmed his nerves, steeled his face into a smooth mask, and walked up to the statue.  Before he could begin to try and guess the password, usually a random sweet, the stone giant leapt aside, and the moving staircase behind it came into view.  Peter stuffed his shaking hands into his robe pockets, and started up those steps, his face schooled into that of innocence and nothingness. 

~***~

The sound of the moving staircase startled Remus Lupin, whose eyes were latched onto the door that the headmaster stood in front of in wonder.  

The door opened, slowly, revealing a short, slightly balding man, in his mid-twenties.

"Good Morning—" the headmaster began, but was cut off by a shout from behind him.  

"Peter!"  Remus cried in recognition.  He ran to the door, pushing past the headmaster, and hugged his friend tightly before Peter could even step through the doorway. Remus broke the hug quickly, and held Peter by the shoulders, looking him in the face.  

"Where have you been?" Remus asked frantically. "I was so worried, Peter!  Did you hear what happened? I went to your house. I was searching everywhere for… Just, where have you been?" Remus said all of this very fast, and Peter looked hassled. 

Shaking, Peter looked from Remus to Dumbledore quickly, and then back to Remus.  His eyes took on a calculating look, and he asked his first question.  

"What is going on?" he asked, staring wonderingly at Remus.  

"That will all be explained in good time, dear Peter," the Headmaster said, and Peter looked at him quickly.  

The Headmaster's aqua eyes had gained their twinkle back fully, and it came to a complete surprise to both Peter and Remus when the old man leaned down and gave Peter a comforting hug.  

"Come, Peter." The headmaster gestured to a chair next to Remus', and Peter collapsed gratefully into it.  

Dumbledore couldn't help but notice that the werewolf's demeanor had turned completely around.  He seemed happy for the first time in many long days, though he could still see traces of sadness in the young man's face, and young Pettigrew's as well.  He wondered when the two young men would ever be able to get past the betrayal of one friend and the death of another.  

"Thank you, Professor," Peter began.  "First off, to answer your question Remus, or one of them," Peter grinned at his old friend. "I _was_ at home, last night and this morning, though I didn't hear you.  I must have just missed you." Peter blushed a bit, and turned to Remus. "I _am _sorry I worried you, old friend." With this Peter leaned over and gave his long time friend a hug.  

"No worries, Petey," Remus told him, face solemn, but Peter could detect a slight twitch of his old friend's lips, and he knew that was as close as Remus could come to a smile in times like this.  He smiled, despite himself.  It really was going to be easy deceiving them.  

"Well…" 

 And he began to tell them his tale, a story of where he had been this past day and explaining his actions, adding pointless minute details here and there.  Peter always found that lying, especially to ones close companions, was an art form.  One Peter was very good at.  

As he spoke, Remus smiled, and the headmaster nodded, his eyes twinkling.  Both, Peter realized, were glad to have him back, and suspected nothing.  His grin got bigger, and that evil, devious little voice in the back of his head told him it was going to be too easy.  

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To be continued…

Well?  What do you guys think?   

If I get good responses to this, I'll post the rest.  

I have a lot of ideas for this fic.  It's just really hard to continue stories when I get such minimal reader response.  

I really do want to know if it's bad.  Constructive criticism is NOT bad, despite how it sometimes hurts.  It's better than not getting reviews, ya know!!  At least with flamers, I know ppl are reading!!!   

 So please, if you came this far, just click the wittle square, tell me you read it, and I shouldn't throw my computer and ideas sheets for this fic off a cliff.   Or maybe you'll tell me I should.   But such is life.   Just let me know what you honestly thought!!!    

Tootles All!!!

Lady Knight of Kennan


	3. New Identities

In Hiding  
  
Chapter 3: New Identities  
  
Disclaimer: any and all references to Harry potter and affiliated persons belong to the author J.K. Rowling, scholastic publishers, Warner brothers, and lots of other ppl. More specifically, not me!! Thanks, and happy reading!  
  
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Sirius was starting to panic.  
  
He had flown all night, over thousands of miles of ocean, enduring winds, rain, and a few nasty sea gulls that had threatened to overthrow the bike. Sirius, terrified of doing magic, for fear the ministry would see the traces and find him, had to make do with screaming at them, which only aggravated Harry more, until the child was screaming himself in Sirius' arms. That had actually driven the birds away better than Sirius's shouts, much to Sirius' surprise.  
  
He had flown through all that, only to come to a crowded, smelly, dirty, yelling, frightening place called New York City.  
  
He had landed-with much trepidation at being spotted, but it could not be helped-at dawn's first light, making better time than Sirius had expected. The bike had touched ground in the banks of some river, in the back alley of two buildings.  
  
His first move was to check the bundle of blankets and ebony hair that was the baby Harry. Seeing his godson in perfect health, sleeping peacefully, gave him hope. The boy brought painful memories to Sirius. Times with James and Lily that he wished to forget at the moment. But at the same time, the peacefulness of the babe's sleep reinstated Sirius's reason for being here. For flying away from all he had ever known, abandoning his closest friends for the year old son of his dead best friend. It was all so confusing in his mind, all of the memories and theories of the past month. But the one thing that he was sure of at that moment was the child in his arms. Harry was all that mattered. Sirius's only reason for being right now was to protect this child, as was his duty that had been entrusted to him as the boy's godfather.  
  
Sirius looked up at the new country he was in with resolve. He stared down the sunrise, knowing that he had no choice but to go on. He had to, for Harry, if nothing else.  
  
He was not foolish though. He knew, because of the minority of people that had known of the switch between himself and Peter as Secret Keepers, (stupidly, they hadn't even told Remus!) that he would be a wanted man in Brittan, and most likely the rest of the world, sooner or later.  
  
He would have to be careful, very careful, going about things. He certainly couldn't just acclimate himself as Sirius Black in the American Wizarding world. He would have to get a new identity, for himself, and most likely Harry as well. He sighed. There was a lot to be done.  
  
Sirius's next decision was obvious, and much needed. He disabled the flying charm on the motorcycle, enabling it to act as a normal muggle one. Once that was done, he could travel as a muggle for a while. He quickly drove out of the alley, and onto the already busy New York street.  
  
As he weaved in and out of the cars with his motorcycle, holding tightly the still sleeping Harry, it occurred to him that this was not the safest way to travel with a child. His arm was throbbing; he hadn't had a rest in hours. The taxicab that had almost side-winded him on 2nd street didn't help either. He came to the almost sad realization that he would have to sell his precious motorbike.  
  
Sirius pulled to a stop some minutes later outside of New York's famous Central Park, and home of the Central Park Magic, Amusement and Learning Lane, or MALL for short. Sirius stared for a moment. This was the 'Diagon Alley' for America, or so Sirius had heard. He had only been to America once in his life, and that was on the West Coast, during a summer holiday with his parents when he had been young.  
  
Every major city had a Mall, and wizards all over could Apparate or Floo to the entrance and pass the magical barrier. Sirius parked the motorbike on the sidewalk, hoping this wasn't where he could get ticketed, and headed into the park. He only hoped he could find his way to the entrance.  
  
Sirius knew the Mall was a long strip of walkway, paved in brick, and lined with trees, and the Magical entrance was achieved by stepping on the right sequence of bricks on the road. He was only worried because, as hard as he was trying to remember, he couldn't recall what sequence the bricks went, or, more importantly, how in the world to get to the Mall entrance from where he was. This was going to be a problem.  
  
He came into the park past a colossal statue, on a massive pedestal, of what looked like a man, with gatherers behind him or sum such. A historic piece for America, no doubt, Sirius thought. He was not learned in the histories of the world. He would also have to acclimate himself to this as well, he thought resignedly.  
  
As he walked through the park, he looked for signs that could tell him where to go, or people in cloaks to ask for directions. He was a bit weary about asking someone else though. He had no idea of the British ministry had contacted America's yet, or if the public knew what everyone in Britain would believe by now. After thirty minutes of wandering around the park, he resolved to ask a muggle where this brick pathway was. There were not many people out, but a few who could be of service. It was only dawn.  
  
He switched Harry from his left arm to the right, shaking out his aching arm. He headed toward a young looking couple sitting and talking at a giant fountain.  
  
"Pardon the intrusion," he said politely, as the couple turned to look at him, all too aware of his strong English accent. "I was wondering if you could direct me to an area of the park. It's quite a large brick path, with big trees lining it?" He inwardly cringed at the stupidity of his description, but it could not be helped.  
  
The woman smiled at him. "Yes, The Mall," Sirius raised his eyebrows in surprise. Were these two wizards? "It's just north of here a bit. If you follow that path, you'll get there in no time."  
  
As Sirius thanked them, a small yawn came from the covered bundle in his arms, and the couple looked at the emerging child.  
  
"Your son?" the man asked, smiling.  
  
"Er, yeah," Sirius replied, smiling slightly. He hated lying. He was good at it, when the occasion called, but he hated it all the same.  
  
He resettled the child in his arms and thanked the couple again before quickly walking down the path the woman had pointed out. It was a beautiful walk, and as small Harry began to wiggle in his blankets, Sirius enjoyed a moment's happiness at the parks wonder, and the warmth of the rising sun, and the angelic look on his godson's face. For one glorious moment he pretended to forget the fact that he was a wanted criminal, that he had helped murder his best friends, and orphan his godson. He could overlook the truth that he had no idea how to raise a child, or what he was going to do to make a safe life for the two of them. He imagined for a single moment, that all was right in his world, and that today's dawn would bring him what he most desired: his life back.  
  
But, as Harry began to whimper with hunger, and Sirius developed a cramp in his side, he was forced to come to terms with reality. He was in a foreign country, with a kidnapped child, as a wanted killer. Could things possibly get any worse?  
  
Sirius wanted to slam his head into something as he thought those words. Everything got worse when you thought it couldn't and said it. He found his intuition was correct, as he got closer to the Mall, and his heart sank as if a lead weight had been attached.  
  
In small groups, in seemingly random places along the long brick-paved road, there were small groups of very obvious wizards. They had not even pretended to dress as muggles. They wore bright colored robes, and even a few wore hats. They stood in clumps of four or five, all leaning in, and whispering rapidly. Sirius caught a few snatches of conversation as he walked past, and what he heard made his stomach sink along with his heart.  
  
"Did you hear, the Potters."  
  
"House destroyed, street in ruins."  
  
"Not even a Dark Mark."  
  
"Their son, yes, a baby, Harold, or something."  
  
"You-know-who, just gone!"  
  
Sirius came to an abrupt stop at the last snatch. Voldemort, gone? How was that possible? Against his better judgment, he leaned a little closer to the last group.  
  
"Rumor has it the baby defeated him!"  
  
"How can a child defeat a grown Dark wizard?"  
  
"Dunno, must be awful powerful."  
  
"What happened to the child? Is he dead?"  
  
"That's the scary part. My friend, in Surrey, told me they haven't found the boy. Not a trace."  
  
"Some Dark wizards made off with him no doubt."  
  
Sirius, until now listening with rapt attention, realized what a danger he was in. He was walking around, unprotected, undisguised, with Harry Potter, the child who had killed a dark lord? He sidled away from the group, trying not to be noticed. It was too late.  
  
"Hey!" Sirius went rigid, but turned to look at the speaker. "What are you doin' here?"  
  
The man who had called him was in jade blue robes, with sandy brown hair and sunglasses to ward off the bright morning rays. The others looked curiously at him. Sirius was all too aware of his windblown hair from the bike ride, and his rumpled black robes, and, as always, the bundle of blanket now on his chest. He thought fast, his marauder skills on full alert. He once again sank into the calm aloofness of his Hogwarts days.  
  
"Just trying to get some of the gossip," he answered with a sly smile, grinning inwardly as he saw two of the females in the group smirk. "You know, been out of the loop for a while."  
  
The witches nodded, motioning him to step closer. Sirius was apprehensive. The women were very attractive, (that had always been a weakness at school) but the child in his arms came first. The temptation was killing him though.  
  
"Ah, so you hear what happened in England then?" Another man asked, this one with light hair and blue eyes.  
  
Sirius nodded nonchalantly. "Heard enough."  
  
The group stared at him for a moment, before nodding. He thought for a moment they were going to get back to their discussion, and leave him to walk away safely, but he was all out of luck for today.  
  
"Is that a baby you got there?" one of the women asked, smiling broadly at him. She was brunette, with deep brown eyes, and pale skin. Sirius could tell she was interested in him; by the way she leaned into him to get a look at Harry, and the look in her eyes. Sirius felt some of his apprehension melting away, to be replaced with the cockiness that he had always dominated the playing field with.  
  
"Yeah, he's a baby," Sirius laughed. "My own." The brunette looked fascinated, while Sirius saw her friends behind her roll their eyes. He almost laughed out loud. "He's a good kid."  
  
"Can I hold him?" She reached for the child without a response, and as she touched the baby, Harry began to whimper. Sirius realized his folly only a moment too soon.  
  
"Oh, so sorry," Sirius quickly said, stepping back to place room between him and the brown eyed girl. "He doesn't like strangers too much. Must be going." He smiled at the group, nodding, and quickly walked away. Harry was still whimpering, a mix between a pitiful whine and a sob. Sirius felt absolutely retched. He had forgotten his place, his surroundings, and most importantly, Harry.  
  
"Shhh, Harry. Shhh, I'm sorry," Sirius tried to comfort the crying child, knowing he was failing. He began to fear people were staring at him, so he quickly started to look for the starting point for the entrance. There was a large circle, with something written on it, he didn't bother to look, right in the center. He stepped here, and walked three steps foreword, and two the right, going on the assumption that it worked for Diagon Alley and its' bricks, why shouldn't it work in America.  
  
Apparently, America didn't agree with him. Nothing happened except little Harry got a bit louder. Sirius tried a few more sequences, trying desperately to remember what he had learned so long ago on his trip to America.  
  
Finally, after twenty minutes of looking like a complete idiot, and Harry getting predictably louder, a short, tubby man in yellow and maroon robes jogged over to him, a large grin on his face.  
  
"Trying to enter the Mall now are we?" Sirius frowned, his patience for the day just about used up.  
  
"Yes, could you please tell me how?" If he sounded rude, he didn't care at the moment.  
  
"Me and a bunch of buddies had a bet as to how long you would keep it up, but it got quite boring after a while." Sirius gaped at him. Were all Americans so discourteous?  
  
"Well, are you going to show me or not?" he demanded, shifting arms with Harry again.  
  
The portly man laughed and motioned for Sirius to follow. He did, grumbling under his breath about rude Americans and stupid bricks.  
  
The yellow clad man lead him to the beginning of the lane, and stood on the right corner brick. Sirius moved to stand behind him. "Well?" he pushed, when the man did nothing.  
  
"All you have to do, is count seven steps up from this one," the man stated as he walked foreword. "And then two steps to the right, and one," turned to face Sirius before walking, "to the back." As he took the last step he shimmered for a moment, then disappeared altogether. Sirius started, and then looked around to see of any muggles had noticed. Many already swarmed through the park, jogging, walking or strolling down the street. None seemed to have noticed the man just vanish. Must have charms or something, he thought to himself, before counting the foreword steps. He went up seven, to the right two, and then, holding tight to the struggling Harry, stepped back a brick.  
  
The entire world grew distorted, fuzzy, and then broke completely Sirius was suddenly standing in the middle of a marketplace, underneath a sign that read, The Central Park Mall.  
  
Sirius smiled. Finally he had made it. Shifting the child in his harms again, (he was heavy!) he made his way to the distinctive white columned building of Gringotts wizarding bank.  
  
As he entered the familiar building, he exclaimed at its identicalness to Diagon Alley's. Amazing, really, the feats of the Wizarding World. The Goblins running this bank were just as courteous as the ones in Britain. They opened the door for him, bowing. There were many rows of tellers, helping people count out Knuts and Galleons alike. There was even an exchange counter, he saw, just to his right. He would have to get his money turned into American dollars when he came out.  
  
He made his way to an empty teller, digging in his robe pocket to find his key. Once he had it, he stepped up to the window and smiled tightly, more than a little bit nervous. "A Sirius Black to empty his account," he told the waiting goblin.  
  
"Do you have you're key?" the goblin said stoically. Sirius handed him the key quickly, praying the goblin wouldn't ask questions, and praying America knew nothing of his name quite yet.  
  
If they did, Gringotts didn't care. The goblin nodded, after inspecting the key, and waved another idle goblin over. "Ivanblac will escort you to your vault." The second goblin nodded, and started toward a door to the side. Sirius followed, and they both got into the cart. Sirius shifted Harry, making sure the blankets were secure on the ride down. As much as Sirius had loved the carts as a boy at Hogwarts, and even as an adult, they were cold, and he didn't want the child to catch sick. It would just add to his problems.  
  
They reached the vault in little time. Harry, as was his habit, Sirius had noticed, was quiet all the way. When they reached his vault, the goblin stayed in the cart, and Sirius hurried to do what he came to. For the first time in his life, he emptied his entire Gringotts bank account. It felt odd; like this was one step closer to running away permanently from the Wizarding World. He sighed as he got back into the cart, bulging bag of coins in one hand, and Harry, calmly looking at all of the mines and underground caverns with emerald-eyed interest.  
  
As they went back to the main building, bouncing madly in the cart, Sirius studied those eyes. Just like Lily's. It was almost painful to see those eyes on a child. To know he would never see them again in a beautiful, caring and wonderful friend that he had once had. She would never be able to see her son grow up. And James. oh god James. Sirius couldn't begin to describe how much his pain of missing James pained him. His ally, his companion in all that was mischievous, his best friend. It hit Sirius Black right then, in that infernal Gringotts cart, plummeting through dark caverns with a goblin, and his godson in his arms, that he would never, not ever, see his best friend and his best friend's wife again. He would never again be able to go to the Potter manor after work, showing up unannounced, and being greeted without surprise. He stayed at their house as much as his own, sometimes more. He had played with Harry for a year, taught him horrible things to say to make his mother angry, and funny things to say to make his father laugh. Sirius thought about James laughing. He had always had an aura about him; a way of acting that told the world that he owned it. But when he laughed, it was a joyous experience for all. He had made everyone around him want to laugh as well. Even those who had been pranked, the normal reason for James to be laughing in the first place. Everyone had loved James and Lily. They had the perfect life. And that was all over now. It would never be perfect again, because of him, Sirius Black, and a stupid, cowardly suggestion to switch.  
  
He was launched out of his tumble through memories by the screeching stop of the cart. The goblin hopped out and extended a hand to help him as well. Sirius, startled, got out quickly, trying to recover from his painful memories. He was never going to get any sleep.  
  
He exchanged almost all of his money for American, at an ungodly exchange rate, and hurried out of the bank. He needed to hurry through the Mall. All that he needed he ran over in his head. Clothes, for both him and Harry. Harry especially, as the child was still in soot covered pajamas. Food, some that wouldn't go bad for a while. And a trip down a street he really didn't want to go through. But it needed to be done. He couldn't acclimate himself properly into American society without certain things, and certain things could only be achieved through, well, what Sirius considered very Slytherin-ish ways.  
  
Sirius went to get the clothes first. He bought a couple of sets of muggle clothes from a second hand shop: a few pairs of pants and shirts. He was used to wearing muggle clothing, as he very much liked just being in the muggle world sometimes. While his parents and family were pureblooded, he had always respected, and even admired the British Muggle world. He hoped he could say the same for the American one.  
  
He also bought a multitude of outfits for his godson. Harry seemed to be fascinated with the woman who was helping them. He found minute shirts and pants that the saleswoman just exclaimed over, and a pair of very small runners. The American woman had called them sneakers, but Sirius had just shaken his head at her. Americans had the funniest names for things.  
  
After clothes came food. There was a small market at the mall, were one could buy all kinds of food. He purchased enough to last them a few days while he got their affairs in order, and figured out what he would do here.  
  
He finished his normal shopping as his arms were beginning to weigh down considerably, with the extra poundage of Harry, who was past beginning to fuss, and the bags of clothes and food that he had bought. He told himself that it would be too much of a hassle to set everything down and put a weightless charm on the lot of it. If he realized that he was afraid of the British ministry swooping down on the site of him doing magic, he didn't admit it consciously.  
  
Instead, he turned down a darkened alley, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was looking. A sign dangled at the top of a battered archway proclaiming this place to be simply The Alley.  
  
If The Mall was the Diagon Alley of America, than this was the Knockturn Alley. Here was where stores were able to sell questionable materials without the worry of officials walking the streets, seeing their wares. Here Sirius would be able to speak with a few shady people, who, among other things, would be able to help him with a few problems with the American government. He had spent a lot of the flight over thinking about what he would do to disappear into the American society, and this was one step.  
  
As he walked down the alley, he realized that he would not be able to do this with the packages and Harry. Apart from being bulky and heavy, one of the two were liable to be stolen. He saw a vacant bench on the road, and, with a wary eye to the others on the street, he set his parcels down and switched Harry to his other arm. Pulling out his wand with another look around, he cast a strong weightless charm on the packages, and then shrunk them to put them in his pockets. Most wizards would just simply shrink them, but the minute objects tended to weigh the same as their original size if the wizard performing the spell was not very good at charms. With a twist in his heart he remembered that Lily had taught him that. He shoved those memories to the recesses of his mind as he stood back up.  
  
He continued down the cobbled street, weaving around robed and hooded figures. This was not the safest place for a child. Sirius simply hoped he wouldn't have to spend any longer here than necessary. He stopped at a shop labeled simply Papers and went in quietly, silently urging the wiggling tot in his arms to keep quite.  
  
The store was dirty. It held a multitude of desks, all lining the walls, all covered with stacks of crumbling parchment. Sirius looked around, taking in the dim light bulb dangling from the ceiling, bare of a cover, and the peeling brown of the walls. He wondered idly if that was wallpaper, or simply dirt. He saw too, a counter on the far side, with mountains of papers on each side creating a small window to look into the back of the shop. He walked toward that, looking around at the room as he moved. It gave him an overall feeling of gangster movies he had seen; the rooms in which deals and arguments went down. He shuddered, but continued to the counter.  
  
Just as he was wondering what he had to so to receive help, a man popped up from behind the counter, with a barking "What?"  
  
Sirius blinked, startled. He quickly came out of it though, as this man glared down at him. "I need some help." He replied. The man was intimidating enough. He was tall, with a mop of oily black hair that reminded Sirius of Snape. He had small, watery black eyes, and a long face that ended in a very pointy chin. He looked down his long nose at Sirius as if he was a very small child.  
  
"What kind of 'help' are you looking for, then?" the man asked with a sneer. Defiantly looks too much like Snape, Sirius thought reproachfully. Shifting Harry in his arm, he decided that he did not have time to deal with annoying clerks who thought too highly of themselves. He advanced on the counter slowly, the steely glint in his eyes getting more pronounced as he proceeded.  
  
Half an hour later Sirius walked calmly out of the Mall and into Central Park. He held Harry close to his side, shrunken and weightless packages and all of his Gringotts account in muggle money in one pocket, and in the other a folder full of stamped and legalized muggle documents that gave Harry and himself identification, American citizenship and Sirius a drivers license in California.  
  
From the Mall exit, he hurried to the exit of Central Park, where he hoped his bicycle was still waiting. As he got closer to the entrance he had come from this morning, he could barely make out his old motorbike standing just where he had left it. He quickened his pace just as he noticed another motorcycle next to his, with a man in a blue suit and hat getting off of it. Sirius's heart leapt into his throat. It was a police officer.  
  
He slowed down, and meandered towards a large pillar near the parking lot. He stopped to set Harry down, letting the boy walk unsteadily and inspect the bugs on the sidewalk, one eye on the policeman. He appeared to be looking at the bike from all angles and then sporadically writing things down on a notebook.  
  
Just as Sirius was about to pick up Harry and forget about his treasured motorcycle, the police officer ripped a piece of paper from his notepad, attached to the motorcycle, and then drove away. Sirius breathed a sigh of relief just as Harry giggled at a ladybug crawling on his hand. He scooped up his godson, ladybug and all, and made his way back to his motorcycle, taking a meandering course, just in case the police officer decided to come back for something.  
  
He tore the paper off of his windshield reading. It was a parking ticket. It crumpled it in his hand and threw it on the ground. The bike wasn't going to be his long enough for anyone to notice he hadn't paid a parking ticket. He had considered selling the bike somehow, but after the morning spent shopping, realized that it would take him too long, and he had no idea how to advertise a British motorcycle in New York. He would simply leave it in the parking lot to the airport, his next destination.  
  
Two hours later, with Sirius short one temper, he angrily parked his motorcycle into the parking lot of LaGuardia Airport. The directions he had received from a gentleman at the Mall had been shotty, and the long night of no sleep, three hours of shopping and then bad traffic had put him into a foul temper. Harry, who was beginning to get extremely cranky, was tucked into Sirius's leather jacket, the zipper lowered partially for the boy to get some air. He was extraordinarily heavy, and Sirius would be happy when he got to the terminal and sorted things out.  
  
The weight wasn't the only thing making him irritated. Harry's position also brought back painful memories. He had loved carrying Harry in his soft leather jacket when visiting James and Lily. The child had loved it too. Lily had threatened to hex him until he couldn't reproduce when she found her son in the depths of the coat, but he and James had always just laughed, and eventually Lily would just huff off, taking Harry with her. Now Sirius would give anything to have them back here, yelling at him, even his prized motorcycle.  
  
With that thought he frowned. It seemed he was going to have to be rid of his bike anyway now. He took Harry out of his jacket, where the little boy was beginning to squall and set him on the seat of the bike, steadying him with one hand. With the other he quickly stripped the bike of all of his possessions. He took off the expensive leather bags on the back, which were filled now with the packages he had purchased at the Mall, draped it over his shoulder, and pried the invisibility booster and the flying charm buttons out of the handlebars. He didn't want to be responsible for any muggles wandering the skies with his motorcycle. With one final sigh, he picked up his godson and the bags, and laid a hand on the engine hull.  
  
A million memories flooded his mind about his motorbike. He had treasured the thing, spending many a night polishing the rich midnight black steel and chrome handlebars, waxing and rubbing to keep it gleaming. He remembered James, Remus and Peter, envying him for the sleek vehicle when they were younger. He remembered his parents and Lily sharing the opinion that he was nuts to be riding it, and referring to it as a suicycle. He saw in his minds eye trips and adventures that he and his friends had had on this bike, and the hours spent soaring the skies. He fingered the small dog emblazoned on the side of the bike, hidden so only a careful, critical eye would catch it.  
  
This bike had been his life for many years. With one hand on his godson, his belongings, and all that waited for him in his future, and one on the glorious motorcycle, it seemed to him the last object of his past. The last piece that he would be giving up to forever. A life that he could never go back to. He wondered for a fleeting, mutinous, selfish moment if it was worth it. He looked at the crying baby in his arms, the child that he would have to raise and care for for the rest of his life. He realized with a panicky jolt that he didn't know. He didn't know, but he would go through with what he promised his best friends. He would not abandon their son to the mercy of the wizarding world. He would do what he set out to do, even if it meant the life that he had always wanted and thought he would have would be shattered.  
  
He turned away from the motorcycle, and turned his back on all he knew, and headed toward the unknown and defiantly uncertain future, arms wrapped tightly around a small bundle of untidy black hair and emerald eyes that was to become his entire world, and his only reason for living. 


End file.
